Gambling With Fate
by Championship Vinyl
Summary: New! Multi-chapter! Castle's hosting a precinct poker game, and Beckett decides to orchestrate a setup... ;D Focuses on the Lanie/Javier 'ship, but includes plenty of all the main characters... Read and review, please, and viva Castle!
1. Game

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**Yay, oh look, it's a story that's actually not a oneshot! Woo! XD Apologies to my non-Castle readers, but I'm OBSESSED with Castle, so forgive me if my attention is somewhat commanded. ^^**

**If you've ready my previous pair of Castle oneshots, "Keep Your Finger On The Pulse" and "Downbeat," then you are aware that I ship Lanie/Esposito. (I STILL say they are just subtext waiting to happen. XD ) SO. This story won't be TOO long, but it WILL be multi-chapter and it WILL focus on that pairing. You might have to go read at LEAST "Downbeat" to get parts of this story. Here's a teaser trailer for ya: Beckett gets crafty… **

**And that's all I'm gonna say. ;] Happy reading. **

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It was pretty quiet around the precinct that morning. Lot of people were out getting evidence or questioning witnesses, even all the way down to the ones who weren't really into 'field work,' like Karpowski and Stegner. Beckett herself was waiting on a few surveillance tapes and photos, which the ever-trusty Ryan and Esposito were out gathering right now, and for once, there was really nothing to do in the interim. A classic example of a case locked at stalemate - their only suspects were already interrogated and their alibis depended on the surveillance. Roughly translated, for the _non _street-pounding few, that's a morning off. Even Writermonkey must have sensed the lull, because he'd detached from her hip and wandered off a short while ago.

Downtime didn't come around often - for Beckett especially - so when it did, it meant a little alone time with the cappuccino machine. Verboten in the presence of gloating authors, sure, but boy, did it ever make a fine cup of joe.

She'd taken her favorite mug - the green, polka-dotted one with the ironic mantra of 'Innocent Bystander' on it - home to be washed, so the detective really didn't think much of it at she reached for the rack of stoneware for a replacement. Plucking out one of the standard white ones that featured the precinct shield, Beckett smiled to herself as she found that it belonged to one of her own team, reading the Post-It label on the bottom. 'Kevin Ryan, no touching, I will find you,' it read. _Bad move, Detective_, she thought. _Never tell a girl not to do something_. Her luck was getting more and more awesome today.

It only took a second to shove in a new pot and press a few buttons, and Beckett was on the road to a caffeine fix. Sliding her swiped perfect substitute under the nozzle, she allowed herself to savor the rich coffee aroma as a stream of dark roast trickled into the ceramic. Thankfully, nobody interrupted her this time, and after a quarter-cup of steamed milk and a shot or two of caramel - though she'd deny that last one to the death - Beckett picked up her beverage and a stirring stick and wandered out into the mostly-empty bullpen.

Or, wandering out is what she _would_ have done, if she weren't rooted to her spot from the second she'd turned around. No, instead, she'd spotted Castle coming out of Montgomery's office, and it was quiet enough that she could make out everything they were saying, so long as she didn't move a muscle. Sometimes the urge to eavesdrop was just too powerful.

"Sorry 'bout this, Castle," Captain was saying, clapping the author on the shoulder. "In-laws wait for no man."

"But you'll be there next week? The mayor's looking forward to it."

"Oh, absolutely. I'd _sell_ the in-laws before I'd miss a chance to win my dignity back. Just don't tell the wife."

Castle chuckled at the joke, trading a wave-like gesture with the captain as the elder man disappeared back into his office. By the time he went to turn around, Beckett had swooped in and was right under his nose.

The writer jumped. "Jeez! How do you _do_ that? You're like a stealthy superfreak Marvel character."

"What were you talking to Captain Montgomery about?" Beckett asked. She eyed Castle with a curious, if not utterly suspicious expression. Somewhere between dead serious and cracking a grin, as if he was the class clown with a frog and she was the teacher who knew it was going in the desk.

"He can't make it to the poker game; he…wanted to let me know in advance…?"

It was amusing to see how nervous he sounded when he answered that. Beckett had him right where she wanted him. Knowing that, she let him stew while she processed his response for a few seconds.

'The poker game' meant _thee_ Poker Game, of course: the one Castle was holding over all their heads, in his tireless effort to make the one game the squad had attended into a more regular affair. It had taken him a good long while and a have-to-appreciate kind of effort to find a clear spot in everybody's schedules, but he'd done it, and the hand-printed, casino-style invitations he'd had Alexis write out were just charming enough to guilt everybody into going. Beckett included.

The game was on Friday. Three days away. For some reason, the thought of Friday reminded Beckett of how she'd spent the _last_ Friday, and her conversation with Lanie - a talk that had been tossing around in her mind off and on ever since - and somehow the combination of that and Captain's withdrawal started the gears turning in her head….

"And don't worry. I won't tell anyone - that you swiped Ryan's mug, I mean. The frothy coffee thing, on the other hand, I plan to spread around. Nice choice. Very 'dark side.'"

It had only been a few seconds, but Beckett's space-out was effective enough that Castle's obnoxiousness snapped her back to attention. She would have shot him a glare, but she was too busy making up her mind to meddle. "I want you to invite Lanie to the game," she blurted.

Castle's eyebrows crawled toward the refuge of his hairline. "I'm sorry - _you, _asking_ me _for a favor? Well well well, isn't _this_ quite the turn of events. What brought this on?"

"I just…" _Am not going to break my friend's trust by letting YOU know, that's for sure…. _"Want to make sure somebody fills that seat who can take you down, is all." Kate kept her tone mysterious and competitive.

Rick wasn't buying it. He crossed his arms. "Is that so?"

"Think about it, Castle… You, me, Ryan, Esposito and Martha - that's an uneven table… Gotta keep it fair, after all."

"Well, I - "

"Imagine, winning all that takeaway. You don't want the guys saying you rigged the table to win, do you?"

He adopted an 'a-HA' look and snapped his fingers. "Ooh! I'll uninvite my mother."

"She _lives _there."

"Not officially."

"Castle."

"You just want to pile up more estrogen to overpower us with so you can split the pot among your feminist tribe-leaders," he accused.

"Maybe; what's it to ya?"

"Ooh, saucy."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "I mean it, Castle." The banter had its merits, especially the times she got him to do something stupid like trip or drool on himself, but there was a matter at hand here, and waiting for the answer was pressing Beckett's patience. "I really think you should. Will you just do that? For me, at least?"

"What makes you think I'm inclined to do you any favors?" he teased.

"I haven't _shot_ you yet."

"You have a point. Still, Detective, I think that, if there's something you want from _me_, it's going to have to be on _my terms_."

Crap. He _would_ do that. It was _so_ like him. She should have _known_ she wasn't getting out of this scot-free. Beckett clenched her jaw as if she were about to take a punch, tilting her chin up and taking a step forward, using her own unflinching gaze to throw that challenge right back into Rick's eyes. "Name your price."

He must have had his answer prepared. "Nikki Heat gets a strip-yoga scene."

"St…strip-_whatnow_? No. Ohh, no no _no_. No. Is that even a _thing_? Just…no. _Not_ happening."

"Yes."

"No."

"You know _technically_, you can't stop me anyway. This is just a courtesy."

"Or _blackmail_."

"_Courteous_ blackmail! Except 'blackmail' is such a harsh word anyway. I prefer…'providing incentive.' Has a nice ring to it, right?"

He was so close to giddy, it was disgusting. "You are so unbelievably shallow, you know that right?"

"Ah ah ah, Detective. You want Lanie to come to the game, you play by my rules…."

Yeah. That made sense. Beckett nodded, all prepared to turn right around, retreat to the breakroom and accept the loss of round one…except she shot out a hand and pinched the fragile upper cartilage of Castle's ear. Watching him try to twist away and end up doubling over sideways was oddly satisfying.

"AHH, ha-hahhh, ow, ow ow OW ow ow ow ow…."

"_Or_, you send Lanie an invite, Nikki Heat keeps her clothes on, and you won't need a hearing aid at thirty-seven."

"Owowow…oh, like _this_ isn't blackmail?"

"I'm providing incentive."

"Ooh, good one…ouch, leggo leggo leggo…"

"Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, yes, just like Roosevelt…"

"Good." Releasing her pinch-of-death, Beckett let him go and took a congratulatory sip of her frothy cappuccino, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Glad we understand each other." As soon as he was free he stumbled back a step and rubbed a palm over his newly tender ear, glaring like a kid who'd just been duped into eating his vegetables. It was the perfect mental picture, and as Beckett turned away she made a note of it, fully intending to carry it around the rest of the day. "And hey - thanks, Castle," she added, her tone so cheery that it would have been impossible to tell whether it was fact or fiction.

"You owe me a strip scene! And an ice pack!" the writer called after her. Beckett smiled to herself as she walked away.

Step one, complete.

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**xD Well, there you have chapter one. The next one's on its way asap, and we'll be seeing some different perspectives as this goes, too, so stay tuned. ;]**

**ALSO, I have a very important note for all you Castle fans/writers out there…I've recently started a Castle RPG that is DESPERATELY in need of members, so if you're interested in roleplaying a Castle character - or an original character - PLEASE, go to my profile, read about "12****th**** Precinct" and take the link. Thank you. ^^ I'll mention in somewhere in my notes on each new chapter, too, so nobody misses it.**

**ANYWAY. Thank you all for the reads, and PLEASE tell me what you liked in a review! Thanks in advance, and much love…! **

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	2. Set

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**Back again! ^^ Time for the next step in Beckett's master plan. Insert my evil laughter here. xDD **

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This one was going to be easy. Wasting no time the next day, Beckett walked over, hopped up backward onto Ryan's desk - causing him to drop the open folder he was working with and mutter his surprise - and leaned toward him a bit from where she sat, keeping her volume in check, just in case.

"Throw your hand."

If Beckett's sudden presence wasn't enough to get him to look up, her sentence would do it. Ryan turned in his chair to face her, and, more than a little confused, he could only assume she was asking literally, for a case or something. The 'what are you up to' look stayed on his face as he stretched his left arm out and let his hand flick loosely from the end of it.

Detective Beckett arched a slightly judgmental eyebrow. "_Really_?"

"That…wasn't a ballistics thing?"

"No." God. Rolling her eyes, she reached forward and flicked her work-brother on the forehead. His wince wasn't _quite_ as satisfying as Castle' theatrical writhing, but that could just be chalked up to the fact that this was much lighter torture on a much smaller scale. Plus, the subject was slightly more mature. Generally. "I'm asking you, _throw your hand_."

Ryan, for his part, was going to need a few more particulars. "It's…attached? I've seen Saw too many times to fall for that one."

Oh, for the love of all things holy… "You know, you're very _literal_ this morning. What brought _that_ on - fight with Jenny?" That may have been a little pointed, and she may or may not have been smirking a little…. She'd deny it in court.

"Why does it always come back to that? …And, yeah."

Somewhere inside of her, behind the tireless determination but on top of the airtight box of family issues, Beckett always felt a victorious little pang of triumph that she could read Ryan so well. _Both_ of her detectives: they were like any other chapter book on her shelf, more times than they were aware of. It was fun when the books got defensive.

"Ryan. Try and _work_ with me here. I want you, at the poker game on Friday, to throw, your hand," she said evenly, hoping that the effort of suffocating her smirk was enough to make her sound appropriately authoritative.

Well, that was a horse of a different color. Taking on something of a smirk of his own, Ryan leaned back, the backspring in his chair quietly creaking its complaint. He crossed his arms and quirked up an eyebrow, not too much of a change from his 'what are you up to' face of earlier. "You…want me to throw my hand," he repeated. "Like, throw the _game_? And lose on purpose."

"By George. He's got it."

"And, just to clarify…you're asking me this _why_?"

Ahh, perfect. Time for the hook. Gripping the desk's edge on both sides of her for balance, Beckett leaned forward, not five inches from Ryan's face, and mischief was all over hers. "Because I'll make it worth your while," she promised. Freeing her right hand, she held it out to him, waiting rigid to seal the deal. "You bow out of the game, and I pay you the pot, win or lose. Not a word to anyone and there'll be a check on your desk on Monday."

"I'm sorry - are you _bribing_ me?"

"Uh, yeah. Duh. Problem?"

"Not at all." Ryan smacked his hand into hers, and they shook. Case closed. "You got yourself a very bizarre deal. Dare I ask what you're planning?"

"Nope." Beckett slid off the desk, capping off the handshake by patting him on the shoulder. She'd completely stopped bothering trying to hide her smirk, and she turned to walk away. "It's strictly covert, need-to-know-basis stuff. You take Fifth Third, right?"

"Totally." His tone may have been a little deadpan-ish, and he might have raised his eyebrows for a sec in a 'whatever you say' kind of way, but, hey: an offer to be guaranteed a pool of cash without having to play for it _or_ work for it? Not half bad for ten a.m. One shrug and a swivel around, and he went back to work.

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_Step two, complete._ Thoroughly satisfied with her success so far, Beckett picked up her mug as she passed her own desk and took a long, congratulatory sip of coffee. As tame as the party was, though, it didn't last long, because at that moment Esposito strode in from pounding the streets, pulling the lanyard around his neck over his head and depositing the badge on his desk.

"Yo Beckett. Got a hit on our vic's widow uptown. Turns out she put a two-hundred-fifty-_thousand_-dollar life-insurance policy on 'im _three days_ before he died." Esposito jabbed a finger at the clipboard he was holding, indicating one of his notes in particular. Beckett came around and read over his shoulder as he spoke. "Got that little tidbit from the family funds manager, and when I sent uniforms to go pick her up, _their_ reports said that _she_ claimed she didn't know anything about it."

Giving her a sly sideways glance, the kind he always gave when he had something good on somebody, he lifted the corner of the top sheet and turned it over the back of the clipboard. Beckett gaped at what was on the second page.

"That's her signature. That's our widow's signature on the bank receipt," she exclaimed.

"Sure is. Wonder if she broke a sweat, lyin' like that."

Go-time. Switching her eyes from the documents to Javier, she grinned broadly, partly out of pride for his sharp work and partly because finally, this case had a lead. She grabbed the clipboard from him, put down her coffee, and turned for the interrogation rooms. "She in now?"

"Should be."

"What do you say we go give her a little 'good cop, bad cop,' see if she changes her tune about _exactly_ what she remembers?"

Esposito pulled off his jacket and dropped it over his chair as he followed. "Unless you got other plans for me."

_Ohhh_, his choice of phrase was too priceless. Thoughts of her ongoing scheme were all over Beckett's face as she held open the door. A last indulgence of mirth before she crossed the mirror and the mood went stoic. "Oh, trust me," she replied smoothly. "You're right where I want you."

Getting her irony-driven smirk in check, she slipped into the room behind Esposito, and the heavy door of Interrogation Two clicked shut.

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**^_^ Any guesses as to what she's doing? Don't ruin it for everybody else. X] So far, Lanie's coming to the game and Ryan's going to fold, hmmmm… Wonder how this could possibly benefit Lanie and Espo… ^^**

**AND. Because I said I'd mention something about it on each new chapter. PLEASE, if anyone (age 14+) is interested in joining a completely-free, all-Castle roleplaying forum, PLEASE PLEASE GO TO MY PROFILE and read about/take the link to "12****th**** Precinct." We're new and still need members, including people to play Castle, Esposito, Ryan, Lanie and Montgomery (AS OF the time of this chapter's posting), plus others and OCs. Thank you for listening to this handy non-profit announcement. XDD**

**SO. Got thoughts about this installment? Share 'em! I love reviews. ^^ Thank you to all you who've been reading. Next part soon. **

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	3. Match?

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**Yo! 'Nother chapter, hot off the press. Er…the Word doc. *shrugs* xD I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER! Real life, ugh. xD BUT. Time for it allll to come together. This won't be the last chapter, but it is the 'big' one. That's right: the reason it took so long is because it IS so long: it's the whooooole poker game. ^^ Time to find out what Beckett had up her sleeve, and whether or not it takes wing… ^_^ (Oh, and of course, the italicized segment is a flashback.)**

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"_Dar_lings, good people of the city, my little Justice League of defenders, come in, come in! Your table awaits."

The relatively plain front door to Castle's apartment did nothing to advertise the eclectic, homey opulence inside, nor did it stand a chance against the force that was Martha Rodgers. The diva swept it wide like on off-Broadway script and lavished a wily smile of greeting on her newcomers. "Welcome to Las Vegas, New York - just remember the rule about what happens here staying here."

Martha's wink was meant to punctuate the statement for all _three_ of them, but Kate thought she noticed it directed especially towards her. Knowing exactly why, with a grin that meant she truly liked the woman and the subtlest bat of an eye, she sent a wink right back.

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"_So you're _sure_ you're okay with this? And you don't want to know why?"_

_Beckett's question came out more pensive than she usually allowed herself to sound, her solid plan betrayed a little by the tapping of her pen against the desk, and the elder woman's reassurance came clear through the phone in reply. _

"_Darling, _please_. I get a phone call from my son's favorite muse asking me to feign an awful hand and bow out of the poker game, and you think I'd prefer to know _why_? No, nononono. I'll admit I am a little curious, but, if there's a world without the intrigue of the element of surprise, then it may be a cliché but I don't want to live in that world. I won't hear of it. Far too dull, and those of us with Rodgers genes like a little mystery."_

_Mama Castle's unorthodox view of the universe never failed to make Beckett pull a smile. Even being called a 'muse' didn't bother her that time. "Believe me. I've noticed," she agreed into the phone._

"_So. You can count on me to lose gracefully, don't you worry. I can honestly say I'm looking forward to whatever it is you have up your sleeve, Detective."_

"_Oh," she sighed sardonically, "so am I."_

"_Was there anything else, dear?"_

"_No; that's all I need."_

"_What about Richard? Does this plot of yours require him to fold too? If you like I'll relay the message…"_

_Like the rest of this scheme, that decision was a quick one, the answer decisive. "No. Just…don't say anything just yet. Leave Castle to me. I'll take care of it."_

_Beckett could practically see the elder woman miming a lock and key at her perfectly touched-up mouth. "My lips are sealed. You never called here, and this conversation never happened."_

_The detective grinned again. "Thank you, Martha."_

"_Nothing to it, dear. Bye bye now."_

"_Bye."_

And, success,_ Beckett thought. Was that the click of the phone hanging up or the sound of a third checkmark in her column? She was due for a hearing test anyway._

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"Wow - you really went all-out," Ryan observed, looking up at the specially-printed casino banner tacked into the ceiling overhead. It went with the colorful martini glasses on the counter, the orange-and-green streamers on the railings, and the jaunty rendition of "Easy Money" playing from the stereo system.

Martha glided to the table after her round of greetings; a kiss on each cheek, European-style. "Atmosphere is everything, Kevin, atmosphere is everything. You'll learn that after a few more Castle-Rodgers productions. Now come, come, take your seats, all of you, I've got drinks all ready."

Taking off their jackets, the three detectives made their way into the living room to discover that they weren't the first ones to arrive. From her chair at the back of the circle, Dr. Parish was already well into her first martini.

Beckett couldn't help but smirk now. _And here it goes._ "Hey, Lanie. Head start?" She pulled a chair out toward the right and sat down.

"Who'm _I_ to turn it down if it's free? Hey girl. Ryan." And then the M.E.'s eyes landed on the last Musketeer. "Esposito." She did a good job at keeping her unintentionally-loaded pause down to two or three seconds. Not _even_ seconds. _Half_-seconds. "'Bout time you guys showed up. I was startin' to think I'd have to whup Castle by myself."

Esposito…had not expected to see her there. While subtle, the expression on his face said _exactly_ that, and Beckett noticed. Ohhh, how could she _not_. This was already satisfying and nothing had even _started_ yet.

Finally the detective smiled, put his coat on the back of the chair across from the coroner, sat down. He was _going_ to speak, but he didn't, because Castle had emerged from the study and walked up behind them.

"And yet sadly, good lady, _that_ is where you are so wrong. Because the only 'Castle whupping' - note the air-quotes - that there will be here this evening is when _I_ whup you all soundly. And ten bucks says every one of you cries. Or at least him." He pointed at Detective Ryan.

Ryan raised his eyebrows in a deadpan 'seriously?' kind of way, not even halfheartedly insulted…but of course, he knew in advance he was losing anyway, and knowing Castle didn't was a really really fun irony. He looked down and snorted out a laugh. From her chair, Beckett kicked him in the shin. Ryan yelped out a "Hey!" Beckett glared. Ryan shut up. Beckett picked up her martini and acted like nothing just happened. Good times.

"Well, are we here to talk tough or are we here to play poker?" Martha demanded, in her usual airy way of course, bustling over from the kitchenette with an additional pitcher of fresh martinis. She set it down in the center of the table and took a chair for herself, adding, "We have beer, too, for those of you who prefer a more masculine poison."

"I'm just fine, trust me." Lanie backed that up by pouring herself another one.

"Me too."

"I'm famously flexible with my poisons," Castle chimed in, waggling his eyebrows from behind his martini glass.

Rolling her eyes with a mischievous grin, Beckett slid the deck across the table. "Deal, Writermonkey. Before some of us are too 'poisoned' to remember how to play."

"Can do." Taking the deck with a flourish, the novelist flipped the stack between hands a few times, fanning them out, shuffling them in on themselves, snapping them into a new stack as if it were a really fast rocket science. Another showmanly glance around at his opponents, and he slid cards off the deck in double-time, one by one, Frisbee-ing them down in front of each of them, left to right. And he kept track. "Margaret, Parry, Heat, Raley, Ochoa, Rook. Margaret, Parry, Hea-"

Ryan broke in with an incredulous; "You're seriously hauling out the alter-egos."

"Maybe. Ochoa, Rook…"

"How about you not narrate, okay?" This from Beckett.

For some reason he decided to answer in a robot voice. "You are imaginationless."

"At least I'm real."

"Yes, well, Pinnochio said the same thing, and look how _that_ turned out." Receiving only a look of non-amusement, he mouthed the word, "Wood chipper."

Beckett kicked the look up a notch.

"…Fine." He dealt the rest of the cards quietly.

Once everyone had a full hand, Castle held the what was left of the drawing deck out to each of them, offering up the role of game dealer from there on out to anyone who wanted it. Esposito took the bait, accepting the stack with a nod and tapping it against the table. "Okay," he announced, taking the reins, "the name of the game is Five Card Draw. Everybody ante up."

Martha tossed a light handful of chips toward the center. Purposefully light. Why pay to fold? "Ten dollars."

Lanie followed suit, but with a few more to make it interesting. "Count me in fifty."

"Fifty."

"Fifty."

"Fifty."

Beckett, Ryan and Esposito all dropped chips into the pot in succession, leaving Castle the last one to put down money. He paused for one of his usual dramatic effects, sending an almost giddy 'challenge me if you dare' around the table. "Two hundred dollars," he boomed, making a show out of depositing stacks of chips on the pile.

"Whoa, whoaho_ho_! Mister High Roller," Ryan cracked.

"Go big or go home," Castle returned, wild-eyed.

Esposito set the master deck out in front of him, right near the pool, and dropped the customary guard chip on top of it. For her part, Beckett took a mostly metaphorical deep breath that only she would ever hear or know about. This was it. She could do this. If her plan was going to work, then she had one mission here tonight, and one only. She took her observation skills, her instinct, her focus, all of it, and she put it all on Castle. Her personal mission was to take Castle down. Simple. Hopefully. Not like she hadn't done it before, at least.

He must have noticed her studying him, discreet though it was. He did usually stay sharp on those kinds of things so that he could use the rare occasions against her later. "Scared, Detective?"

God. He had that 'aren't we just saucy' raised eyebrow again. Emotionlessly scanning her cards, "Of you or that spider on your chair?" Beckett replied coolly. She pretended not to get a perverse enjoyment out of watching him twist to one side and thrash to the other to inspect while Ryan and Esposito muffled laughs. They'd probably have gone for the double high-five again if they'd been sitting more conveniently.

A tight-lipped, so-not-amused glare was on the author's face when he caught on and sat straight again. "Really."

"All right, come on, enough of this stalling," came from Martha.

"Little itchy to gamble, Mrs. R?" went Esposito, arching an amused eyebrow.

_More like curious and impatient_. That part remained in her head: outwardly, the diva just gave a mysterious smile. "Something like that."

"Good enough. You heard the lady; everybody act or hold your peace."

The bank had spoken. For a moment, Beckett wondered which of her two knowing accomplices would bow first, but the second hadn't even passed before it hit her that, it was too early in the game. Neither would drop out in the first round, in favor of not garnering any weird suspicions from the rest of them. They were good like that. The detective made a mental note to treat Ryan to next morning's coffee and to maybe pick up Martha a gift card or something. Appreciation never hurt.

The six of them evaluated their hands, laid cards down, picked up new ones, adjusted their chips accordingly. The game was flowing of its own accord now, and it was self-run to the point where they didn't have to narrate. Esposito didn't need to call out plays. The conversation was free to shift to anything and everything, be it a little competitive trash-talk or nothing to do with poker at all. Chances stood there'd be a little of both.

Beckett spoke first, if for no other reason than that Esposito's call sparked her memory. "Speaking of acting, am I the only one getting the feeling that our widow isn't _quite_ as broken up about her husband's death as she seems?"

Ryan shook his head, while Esposito gave a "Definitely doesn't add."

"Yeah, but what can we do? Her aliby's solid, probably moreso than the tinfoil her precious little sports car's made of," Ryan noted. "I ran all the surveillance from the bank _and_ the hotel _twice_, and so far everything she's saying's checking out clean. Plus the fact that she's got not one, but _two_ witnesses willing to corroborate. Makes it a little hard to pin the murder on 'er when we know her exact whereabouts."

Beckett idly chewed on her bottom lip a bit. "I know, I can't figure it out. But just because we know _she_ didn't physically do it doesn't mean she didn't have help."

"You're thinkin' it was someone on the outside," Esposito caught.

"I'm leaning that way, yeah. Maybe in the morning we'll see if - "

"Yes, please, in the _morning_." Everyone turned to look at Castle for the interruption. "This is fun relax-y time now. No shop talk. Honestly, do you people _never_ just forget about justice for two seconds and…I don't know, expand your horizons?"

"Easy for you to say, Castle," Beckett returned, "since we all know two seconds is about as close to your own attention span as it gets…but why should we? Those families aren't going to 'forget about justice,' not until they _get_ some. And they deserve it if you ask me."

"Well I'm not saying _that_ - or, that they _don't_…_ob_viously. I just mean, you guys deserve to let loose and live a little too. You work hard. Nobody should have to do a job like that with almost no breaks and still be expected to keep their sanity."

Ryan and Esposito traded a smirk. "Aww, sounds like Writermonkey really cares."

"Almost like he wrote a book about us."

"Besides." Here Beckett batted a mischievous eye at Castle. "You, validating sanity?"

"Okay, fine, har har." He wasn't going to rise to the bait…_now_, anyway. There was always later. Trading out a card and adjusting his chips, Castle turned right. "You know this whole 'men against the women' angle really isn't panning out like I thought. Come _onnnn_, you guys! We can _beat_ her!"

"Oh honestly, Richard, this isn't a playground."

The author pointed a finger and a word-to-the-wise at his mother. "Do not judge a man until you have climbed to the top of his monkeybars."

"Hey, I'm game for a little 'hombre-y-mujer' competition." This from Esposito; as if he even needed to say it.

"Yes! What about you?"

Ryan shrugged. "All right, count me in then." _Not that _you_ guys are gonna get any benefit from it…_

"Perfect! Ladies, get ready to cry like Kate Winslet drowning Leo." He traded a 'Feed the Birds' with them both, choosing to ignore the five eyerolls that just garnered him. "To quote Thin Lizzy, the boys are back in town."

"Yeah, well don't go singing your choruses just yet, for the sake of my ears _and_ my patience," Lanie chipped in. "Call."

An "I'll second that" came from Martha, followed by a "Raise."

"I can abide by that, as long as you all fully understand that I plan to milk it mercilessly when we win." Trading a dud card for one that felt a little more promising, Castle bobbed his head in Ryan's direction. "Speaking of which, how _is_ Honeymilk, anyway?"

The detective corrected him. "Jenny."

"Bro, he remembers. It's definitely not her he's mocking."

"Oh, well _thank_ you." Rolling his eyes, Ryan swept another five chips into the pool with a flick of the wrist. Why not. "Call."

"You know it _has_ been awhile since you've mentioned her," Beckett noted.

"Yeah, well last I recalled I wasn't the only one who liked keeping their personal lives out of the spotlight," he threw right back. "Jenny is fine; she and I are fine and everything is great."

"Wow: two 'fines' and a 'great.' Can't argue with _that_."

Martha raised her eyebrows and raised her martini to match. "Do I detect a hint of denial, Kevin? We're not judging, you can share with the class."

He actually had to laugh at that one, and he enjoyed it too. "Definitely not denial, Mrs. R. I'm just not a big Rikki Lake fan. No, actually she's spending the weekend at her sister's in Montauk." In the interest of changing the subject, Ryan studied the fan of cards in his hands. He attempted a 'perplexed' expression. "Hmm…what would _Raley_ do right now…?"

Espo couldn't help himself. He _was_, after all, Ochoa. "Dude, I don't think sweating is going to help you."

"Or running surveillance," Lanie chipped in, smirking to beat the band. She'd been a loyal reader longer than Ryan and was _way_ more deserving of the Superfan title, even though no one was brave enough to give it to her.

Ryan grimaced, deciding with all the derision going on that now was as good a time as any to do his part of the deal. "Oh yeah? Just for that, I fold," he declared. He flicked his card array face-up onto the tablecloth and leaned back, one arm dangling over the backrest of the chair. Evident in him were traces of the hereditary Irish temper, but he was never really the kind to harness it, especially when, oh yeah, it was _acting_.

Lanie didn't even pretend to be wounded. Heaped on the sarcasm though. "Wow. What a punishment."

"Aww, you're _killin'_ me here! What happened to Man Power and banding together to override the women? That has got to be the shortest-lived plan _ever_."

"How much 'Man Power' did you think _Ryan_ was gonna add?" Esposito cracked, but he went ignored.

Castle wasn't finished yet, and his expression was almost childish as he scooped another few chips into the pot and turned over a card. "The idea was to triple-handedly redeem the male race in the eyes of the World Poker Tour! I think _Alexis_ would have stuck it out longer."

Ryan pulled a face at the insinuation and waved it off, but Martha offered a tilted nod. "You did teach her a thing or two about Texas Hold 'Em, morally confused as that may be."

"Speaking of which, where _is_ the angel-child tonight anyway?" Lanie asked.

"She is currently sleeping over at Paige's house. They're going to order pizza and watch the new Jake Gyllenhaal movie and go to bed at a reasonable hour despite my best efforts to get them to commit at least one minor felony." When three cops gave him 'the look,' Castle returned it. "I'm _kidding_. Raise."

"Give it time, kiddo," Martha said sagely, waving her martini glass. "There's still hope. She's not seventeen yet."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Esposito's mouth, though he tried not to give in to it. Being purely evil was more fun when you kept a straight face about it. "Matter of fact, you might not have to wait that long."

Ahh, yeah, the uber-suspicious and slightly panicked expression Castle was adopting was so worth it. "Why, what do you mean? What do you know?"

"Oh, nothing," Esposito shrugged, "it's just that…she _says_ she's at a friend's place tonight. Nothin' to say she's not at…hmm, a club, Central Park, dorm room… You check to see if the friend's got first-floor windows?"

"Stop. Now. Right there." Castle clamped both hands over his ears, but then thought better of it and pointed at Esposito to make his point clearer. "I do not care if you're the one with the gun license and could possibly break every bone in my body, I will make you cry."

Trading out one of his cards, Esposito just shook his head, facing the table to hide a laugh. Ryan smirked triumphantly, Beckett and Martha traded a grin, and even Lanie couldn't help but chuckle - and not because she'd found the Castle-antagonizing attractively funny, not at all, what're _you_ talking about. She added: "I don't get you, boy. You say you want the girl to go have a little fun, and then you start actin' like you wanna lock 'er up in a tower."

"Oooh, yes - _tower_, I hadn't thought of that. Do they still make those? I know a guy. Great contractor, he can have it up in a week."

"Castle. You can not _actually lock_ your daughter in a tower. You _do_ know you can't have it both ways, right?"

"I'm not _asking_ to have it both ways. But there's a difference between pleasure-cruising through Central Park in a golf cart and doing things with boys that I'm not gonna wanna know about. I'm much much more comfortable with the former."

"You know you're going to have to get used to the latter eventually," Beckett advised.

"Yes. Yes I will. When she's thirty-five."

Rick punctuated his 'and that's the last word on it' statement with an addition of chips to the pile, mouthing the word 'Raise.' Directing an eyeroll at her son via her cards, Martha didn't see the point in dividing her atttention to keep up the game any longer. The conversation was getting far too rich to worry about acting - and she was a brilliant actress if she did say so herself. Time to put those chops to work.

"Well, children, there's no hope for me. That's it." Actually, her hand was more than decent, but…the cards were already face down, no one had to know. "I guess this just isn't one of my luckier nights." Standing from her chair with a grand sweep of her arm, the diva made her way toward the kitchen. "Who wants refills? I've got some snacks here somewhere…"

Beckett was glad that no one was looking at her when a momentary smile of satisfaction slipped past her defenses. Without any further acknowledgement, she discarded and replaced, taking a casual sip of martini. Two seats over, though, Esposito expressed his surprise. "You foldin' already, Mrs. R? I figured you for the 'in it to win it' type tonight."

"No, I'm afraid so: you get to be my age and you'll learn to bow out gracefully while you're still ahead. And that applies to a lot of you for a lot of things." Martha veiled her dismissal under a layer of sage advice, as always - and then made as if it was her attention span that changed the subject and not a covert operation. "I'm bringing back beers…ooh, I found nachos," she sang. "I hope everyone can handle their spice."

"No one quite like you, Mother."

The elder woman bustled back to the table, a dip tray piled with snacks in hand, and met her son's jab with a sunny "Thank you Richard" that turned his joke into an unwitting compliment. He did not appreciate that one.

While Martha sat, Ryan took a beer from the new bottle array in the middle, Esposito shuffled and dealt a new round, Lanie contemplated her poker chips and Called, and Castle reached out for a nacho… And Beckett…? Well, for her part, Beckett was deep in thought, not that you could tell by looking at her. The plan was down to the wire now. Two were out. Four were still in. Two needed to go. And it was on _her_ to make sure it was the _right_ two.

She could do this. Everything just had to fall into place. Luck of the draw.

Ryan swept a nacho through the supply of queso on the tray and popped it into his mouth, leaning back in his chair. "I'd take bets on who's gonna win this but I honestly have no idea. Other than, it's not me."

"I'll put five on Dr. Parish," Martha suggested.

Lanie beamed. Castle gaped. "Mother!"

"Well, I'm _sorry_, dear - just think of it as, every time I root against you I'm only doing my part to push you farther. You'll thank me one day."

With a deadpan expression, Rick turned toward Beckett. "She's been saying that since I was eleven. I'm still waiting for that day to come."

There was always something about those moments when Castle's family and home life made him seem that that much more human. It partially annoyed Beckett that they got to her, but she smiled anyway - and then she tapped her card array, nodding at his. There was work to be done here before she was finished, and she was eager and determined to get to it. "Yeah, well you're gonna have to wait a little longer, Ricky. Come on - are you gonna make a play or should I just sign up for Social Security now?"

The author laughed in the face of the challenge. It was very Simba-esque. "I'm sorry: was that supposed to be a 'push the horses aside and draw' kind of thing?"

"Maybe."

"So you're calling me out, is that right."

A competitive half-smirk graced Beckett's lips. "Well, I'm not calling you 'sweetheart.'" Her retort was met with a high-five from Ryan and the applauding hoots of her constituency.

"Give it time." Both amused by and ignoring the hollers in her favor, Rick straightened his cards, and finally, let his grin spread the rest of the way. "All right, Detective Beckett…you're on. You and me. This hand. No trades. Loser folds."

Her agreement came as a level echo. "Loser folds."

_And it won't be me._

The air was thick with suspense, and all eyes were on Castle and Beckett - if Mr. Master of the Macabre weren't so engrossed in his hand, he would have pointed out the cliché of it all. As it was, those blue eyes of his that were so sewn to Kate a moment ago were now equally fixed on the fan in his left hand. For once, not even any of his Martha-approved tells were coming through. He wasn't tapping, and there was no blinking. Lady Gaga would have been quite proud.

Across the table, Beckett was glad that she'd never had any tells to slip in the first place. Ryan and Esposito had spent many a game in the past trying to pinpoint exactly what her signals were, but every time, she'd surprised them, and it usually brought her out on top. Just when you'd think you knew what little tic to look for, it would come to mean the opposite. And she valued that - because right now, in her head, she was praying he didn't have a trump hand. Just for insurance.

"Well?" This surefire sign of impatience came from Lanie. The M.E. was leaning forward in her seat, eyes bugged as if to say 'come on already.'

Castle took the hint. He nodded once, still stone-faced. It was only when he turned his cards around, revealing them to everyone - making a show of it - that he broke his statue-still expression with a sly and confident smile. "Straight diamonds."

_Shut the front door. _Beckett stared at the cards as he snapped them face-up onto the table, and for a moment, everyone thought it was all over - or, _she_ was all over.

Without breaking the steadfast gaze that she'd set on him, Beckett had no choice. She laid down her fan too.

Esposito and Ryan practically threw their chairs back from the table. That's what you did in an explosion.

"_Ohhh_!"

"Aw, man, she _nailed_ you!"

Lanie: "That's my girl!" Even Martha let out a laugh of surprise.

And only _then_ did Kate let loose her smile.

"Two words for you, Castle: 'royal flush.' And I don't take checks."

"I…wha…you just…" She couldn't say for sure, but at this moment, Beckett was pretty positive that there was nothing on this earth as satisfying as the look on Castle's bewildered face. "How did you even - the whole time you never…!"

"That's the point of poker, Castle. That would be why they call it a 'poker face.'" She graciously smacked the palms that her team held up for her, basking in their worship of her skills - and there was a little basking in relief in there, too.

"Man, look at you, talkin' tough all night. She laid you _out_."

"Need a stretcher, Castle, or will your couch do?"

"No no, Hardy Boys, just my ego back from Nancy Drew would be nice."

"You're lucky you didn't go all-in, Richard," Martha called toward the kitchen. Her son had ejected from his chair and taken refuge in studying the back shelf of the refrigerator. To the rest of the table, she confided, "There was almost a full grand's worth in front of him when he started. At this rate we're lucky Alexis is a shoo-in for scholarships."

"I set up a fund for Alexis' schooling a long time ago, Mother - around the same time I set up a backup fund in case we ever had to put you in a home…how _is_ that going, by the way? Still lucid?"

"Oh, hush."

Popping a cucumber slice in his mouth, Rick shut the fridge and wandered back to the roundtable, armed with a fresh bag of Jay's potato chips and an unopened package of Oreos. "At any rate, I may be out but at least I come bearing snacks."

"Gotta have _something_ to soak up the alcohol."

"Mm-hm, or one of us is goin' home with a parking meter." An exaggeration, but still.

"Therefore, bring it on."

Lanie shook her head. "You boys are just bottomless pits, aren't you."

"Oh no. I have a bottom. I can get you several women's numbers if you feel the need to verify." Rick Castle could be called a lot of things. 'Sophomoric' was…definitely one of them. Nobody even dignified his grin with a response.

Except for Martha. "You know, that reminds me - "

"Oh, _please_ tell me it doesn't - "

"It was about…oh, some thirty years ago, nearly, and I was headlining in this little four-weekend live medley outside Queens. The theater was…well, it was completely awful, but you couldn't have told _me_ that, not at the time anyway. You know how it is - everything's just so exciting and - "

"Uh, not that we all don't _live_ and breathe and eat our very meals for your reminiscences, Mother," Castle broke in again, "but, ah…does this one have a point?"

"Hush, Castle, I wanna hear this."

Martha nodded gratefully in the M.E.'s direction. "Thank you, Lanie."

"Yeah, I could go for a story."

"Thank you Kevin. Richard, you should take a cue from your friends sometime. Now then. One evening, the nanny decided spur-of-the-moment that she simply couldn't spend another day, despite the king's ransom she was getting from me for her job. Just, up and quit, out of nowhere."

"I…may or may not have climbed to the top of the curtains and tried to swing around like Tarzan," Castle supplied sheepishly. If you can't beat the storytellers, join 'em.

"Well, it was the Saturday night performance! There was no one to watch him on such short notice, I _certainly_ couldn't leave Richard home by himself - he couldn't have been more than six at the time - "

"You'll notice, she can't say that _accurately_…"

" - and there was no way I was going to let the starring role fall to my _understudy_ on our busiest night. So, I had no other choice: I took Richard to the theater."

"Bet _that_ went real well," Lanie joked. She and Ryan were the most involved listeners, being the fiction readers, but the whole table was engrossed in the story. Even Beckett was wearing a lace-edged smile, though probably just at the image of Childhood Castle getting in trouble.

"Oh, you have no _idea_," Martha promised. "From the minute I get this child into the front row, he's a saint: 'Yes Mommy,' and 'No Mommy,' and 'I'll be good Mommy'…and then comes the third act."

Ryan chuckled down at his beer. "Here we go."

"I am _right_ in the middle of my duet of 'I Get A Kick Out Of You' - with _Darren Trubridge_ of all people, the finest singer on the whole East Coast, and he liked me, too…God, carved of _stone_, he was absolutely - "

Rick cleared his throat. Loudly.

"…Anyway. We're right in the middle of our duet when Richard here decides it's time to join me. _Onstage_."

"Wow, Castle, never pegged you as the thespian type," Ryan laughed.

"I was _six_. Or somewhere near it."

"And what does he do? He runs right up onto the stage, and…oh, God, I still can't even say it."

"Say what?"

Since he was already deep in the embarrassment bucket, Castle decided he might as well confess as giddily as he'd done the deed. These were badges of _honor_ to kids, after all. "I pantsed Darren Trubridge."

"And then started singing 'I see London, I see France," Martha added, from behind the hand shielding her eyes.

Ryan nearly choked on his beer, he was laughing so hard. Bad time to take a drink. Esposito grinned too, shaking his head, Beckett was trying to quelch her amusement unsuccessfully, and Lanie just raised an eyebrow, smirking a bit herself. "There are so many things I could say to that that I wouldn't even know how to pick one."

"Good. Please don't."

"Anyway, needless to say Darren and I weren't the closest after that."

"Fantastic, Mother, really, but - can I ask one thing? Uh, _what_ was the point of telling them that story."

"_You're_ the one who gave up the punchline." Gesturing with her three-quarters-empty martini glass, Martha addressed the rest of them. "My _point_ is that you never know what life is going to throw at you, so you have to take it in stride. Well…_and_, that Richard has always been immature but then, that's no new news. And that I'm two drinks ahead of the rest of you. It's a good all-purpose point, I don't need a reason."

"No you definitely do not," Lanie agreed.

"Well, now that the humiliation hour is over…" He switched tactics, turning his attention. "Looks like the quest to dominate the women is up to _you_, Esposito. And you're facing _Beckett_ - Godspeed."

But there was still one step that Castle wasn't aware of. At this point, Beckett was more than ready to join the ousted three and just spectate. Her part was done: taking out Castle had been tricky enough. Now she just wanted to crack a beer and enjoy the results of all her hard meddling handiwork. Time for her to bow.

"He won't need it," she spoke up. By the sentence's end, her new hand was casually laid facedown on the table. "I'm out."

"Girl, _seriously_?" Lanie said. "You just tore up Castle; why stop there?"

Kate shot a subtle wink Martha's way - "Crap hand. Quit while you're ahead" - and the elder woman returned it. On that note, the detective reached out for a bottle of imported Heineken and twisted off the cap, reclining against her chair to enjoy the show.

The plan had worked. It was time to let the rest unfold.

Lanie looked up at Esposito from across the table, and he glanced up too, as if they both were realizing for the first time that the two of them were the last ones left in the game. And they did not look disappointed to be facing their opponents.

Lanie slowly took on a competitive smirk, but there was a hint of something else behind it; something intriguing. "You ready for me, Detective?"

With the raise of an eyebrow, Esposito's voice and expression were the exact equivalent of hers. "You know it, Doc."

"Then deal."

"Planned on it."

"Good."

Esposito dealt them one new card each, and the other four at the table glanced from one to the other, around at each other, and back again, as if this new verbatim tennis match possessed something that made them all wonder what they were watching. Only Beckett had the answer, and her faint smile was careful not to give it away. But they noticed, all right. The remaining players' world was already narrowed to two. And that look they were giving each other…well. Let's just say, it was impossible for detectives _not_ to notice. Even if Castle was a step behind. Castle was Castle.

"I'll raise," Lanie offered, scooting a few of her chips into the pot.

"Must be pretty confident," Javier commented.

"And you aren't?"

"Maybe. But I'm not tellin' you."

The M.E. rolled her eyes. "Well, how will I ever recover."

"Not with a big payday," the detective came back with.

"Are you gonna do more than talk before I get old?"

"I see your thirty," Javier transitioned smoothly, "and I'll raise you…thirty-five."

'Did you plan this?' Ryan mouthed at Beckett. He seemed to comprehend the idea that, if it looked like a date and sounded like a date, whether or not there were four other people here, busting it out loud wouldn't be the best idea. Anyway, Beckett didn't answer him, silently or otherwise. Her smirk as she raised the bottle to her lips was answer enough. Martha, knowing better than to even ask, rested her chin in the palm of her hand as she put in the final puzzle pieces, her eyes revealing the 'Ohhh' that she didn't need to speak.

Lanie, of course, was perfectly content with ignoring the rest of them; not like she had much choice. And she knew exactly what she was doing when she let her glance fall to her fan of cards - a glance that couldn't be described as anything but flirtatious - instead of lingering it on him. Just a little torture of her own brand: she knew what he thought, and she was finding more and more that she liked being the enigmatic one. _Really_ liked it. Even if, to the rest of the world, she'd deny there was even an attraction there. Which she would.

Javier - who, for all intents and purposes, had forgotten the rest were there too - made his last deposit into the pile, what few chips he still had. So it was a good thing that he wasn't big on noticing the others, because most of them knew that, for him, that was about two weeks' pay, and they knew the significance when he stunned them all by saying, "All in."

Their widened eyes wouldn't have told him anything he didn't know anyway. He'd even surprised _himself_; or at least, he _would_ have, if he were thinking. His eyes were on Lanie, and all she showed for his gesture was the slightest smile that could have meant anything. She didn't have to repeat his 'All in' to throw her last two chips into the middle.

This was it. _Really _it. There was going to come a winner and a loser out of this, and in the _non_-poker sense, hopefully…well, nobody knew _what_ was going to happen. All they could do was keep their eyes on Lanie, since gentlemen's law had apparently decided it was her turn first. There hadn't been such suspense in a poker game since the Algonquin Roundtable.

Taking her sweet time, the M.E. finally turned over her hand, laying all her cards flat on the table, face-up, waiting. The look in her eye was practically _daring_ Esposito to come up with something better, and in a way she wasn't sure she'd have done it if she'd remembered they had an audience, because that flicker was unmistakable. She knew she'd finished strong, now she wanted the rest of the answers. A patient woman she wasn't, and you could take that however you liked.

Javier looked down long and hard at his own hand, after studying hers. He thought about what he was up against. He thought about his odds here - he thought a _lot_ about his odds. He thought about what he was going to have to do to win. He realized he didn't mind it.

And then after all of _that_, he thought about the poker game. Well, it was simple when you put it like _that_.

Wordlessly, he laid his cards on the table. Facedown. And leaned back in his chair.

From there, the world faded back in, bringing in its color and noise along with it. Castle's voice came clearest. "Aww, _man_! So the menfolk venture back into the desert to wait out another long forty years."

"Whatever _that_ meant."

"Just not your night, is it bro?"

_Who knows. Maybe it is._ Esposito couldn't help but smile as he watched Lanie cackle in a really adorable way and scoop the entire pot toward her - not that he'd share that opinion out loud just yet; he wanted to keep his limbs intact, thank you - and he reached forward for his half-untouched beer bottle, twisting off the cap for a long drink.

"Ha _ha_! Yeah, that's right, you go ahead and drown those losses El Toro," Lanie crowed, gathering up her chips. "And _you're_ a twenty, and _you're_ a twenty, and _ooh_, _you're_ a _fifty_," she said to a few of them.

"If those chips start answering her, I want what she's having," Castle stage-whispered, earning himself the Lanie-glare he'd been going for. Plus a Beckett-glare, and a familiar 'oh, Richard' furrow from Martha. Ooh, a new record.

Ryan half-lifted himself out of his seat, leaning to jimmy the wallet out of his back pocket. With that mission accomplished, he unfolded it and pulled a few bills out of the leather, tossing them on top of the makeshift chip moat as he stood up. "Not that I don't have a soft spot for - "

"Honeymilk?"

" - _losing_, but Jenny's going to be waiting up."

"Yeah, I should get going too," Beckett decided, twisting to access a pocket of her purse that hung on the back of her chair. She counted out her losses and gave them over to the pool, then shouldered her bag and followed suit, delivering a 'he just never stops, does he?' sort of smirk to the scruffily-hopeful faceful of author that craned up after her.

"Walk you to your car?"

"I think I'll get back to you on that one on _Monday_, Castle."

Ryan smirked. "Yep, _I'm_ the protection, at least as far as the subway station."

"I'm sorry - who's protecting who?" Beckett grinned.

"Funny."

The runner-up of the evening stared for a moment into his beer. The bottle had started to sweat in time it'd spent out of the ice bucket, and Javier wiped the condensation from his palm onto the worn knee of his four-year-old Levis as he set the empty glass bottle back on the cocktail napkin. He followed his co-police's example and stood up, just like he probably would've been expected to, shrugging on his coat from the back of the chair. "I take it you don't need a ride back?" he said toward his partner.

"Nope, car's all yours. I've got a subway ticket with my name on it."

"A'right, cool, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks again Mrs. R."

"Yes, thank you Martha," Beckett added, ever mannered.

"Anytime, you kids, and I'll happily take the credit. You know there's always time for a rematch, if you ever feel too robbed - I know, I know what you're going to say, 'got an early day tomorrow, crime never sleeps,' I'm just putting the offer out there," the elder woman clarified.

Shaking his head with an inaudible laugh to himself, Ryan waved over his shoulder as he exited the front door, twirling his housekeys around one finger of the other hand. Beckett gave one last glance over her part of the table to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything before following him out, and never short on amusement when it came to Mama Castle, she replied, "Oh, one of these days we just might take you up on that."

Rick got up and started to transport empty trays and bottles back to the kitchen. "Was that a promise to come to more poker games?"

"That was a promise to cause you punishment at every opportunity."

"I like either."

Given that he'd trained himself to zone out of all Beckett/Castle bon mot a long time ago - at least when it was in his best interest, anyway, because a lot of the time it was just fun - Esposito had been 'searching' in his jacket pockets for his car keys, which was sly lameguy code for swiping glances at Lanie out of the corner of his eye. She was putting her coat on too, flicking her hair out from under the collar, buttoning one button as if saying 'screw it' to all the rest, trying to look like she was in a hurry to leave, which, clearly, she wasn't. The façade made him smile, if involuntarily.

He seemed to jolt her out of a reverie by speaking, or _some_ internal monologue, anyway, and he found himself liking her wide-eyed look-up reaction to his voice. "You drive here?"

Lanie managed to return her expression to a normal one within just a few seconds, almost enough to go unnoticed. Her pause before answering him seemed to say something like 'why do _you_ need to know?' But not necessarily in a negative way. "No."

"Want a ride?"

'_Want a ride.' That's seriously what you come at me with. Do you know how hard that is to say no to, which I should in front of three other witnesses? _She was just going to say no. 'No thank you.' 'Goodnight.' It was that easy. So what if it was dark, getting darker fast? The subway wasn't that far. Heck, if she left now…or two minutes ago…she could probably catch Honeymilk… Yep, boy was just going to have to learn. No matter how sweet and casual and platonic the offer sounded, that didn't mean that she suddenly had 'clueless' stamped on her forehead and she was _not_ going to…

"…Okay. Yeah, let's go."

She liked that wider smile on him, more than she'd _like_ to like it. "Let's go," he gladly echoed.

God, did Beckett deserve a medal of honor for playing it cool like this. She'd managed to keep her eyes and seemingly her attention on the table the entire time, or her purse, or her jacket, as if she were looking for something, but she'd heard every word, and it was a freaking feat of _nature_ that the grin she'd been suppressing hadn't erupted all over her face. Even if a little of it had leaked out when she'd seen the look on Lanie's face when she accepted; a little smile, sort of tentative, but liking what she was hearing. That glinty-eyed look was far from foreign.

It was only once the pair of them had disappeared from Beckett's peripheral vision that Martha entered it, and the light hand on Kate's shoulder almost made her jump. Didn't, but almost. "Did you lose something dear?"

"Oh, no, Martha, I was just…"

It felt natural to trail off. Or rather, it would've felt useless to continue, since The Incomparable Martha Rodgers was wearing that sly-devil look again. The older woman came a little closer to Kate's ear and let her voice fall near a whisper, to keep kitchen-bound Castle oblivious. "It's all right. That was some very fine arrangement you pulled this evening. Have to admit it was quite impressive, even by my standards. They'll 'fess up to what's there eventually - even _I_ was reaching for a glass of water."

An understanding wink, and the whirlwind in vodka spun off to tend the mess, leaving Kate smiling triumphantly to herself, never for lack of being happily surprised.

She could have easily taken that as the sum of the evening and left right then and there, and that was her intent, except her curiosity for detail was slowly driving her hand toward the untouched cards in front of what had been Esposito's seat. Just to see. For some reason she couldn't imagine him having a worse hand than he thought he did; he was always too quickly dismissing the cards he got and then he'd spend the rest of the game pouting and trading up as if some kind of mirac…

…_Oh my God_…

Beckett didn't believe what she saw. The moment she picked up the hand and turned it over, her capacity for that had just shut down.

A straight flush. He'd had a straight flush. Lanie's last hand hadn't had _half_ that weight…not that he could've _known_, but…

"He let her _win_…" she couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

"Beg your pardon?"

_Jeez. _Beckett whirled around the second she heard Castle behind her, slapping the cards back onto the wood and letting go as if they'd burned her hand. She ignored the curious look on his face as he picked up the chip bowl, quickly forcing hers into a just-slightly-amused scowl. "I said I'm turning _in_, Castle. 'Night."

The author shrugged, needing a night's sleep and a cup or two of coffee before he'd have the energy to question that. "Until tomorrow then, Detective."

Not pressing her luck, Beckett closed her coat around her and walked for the door, out of it, down the hall, into the elevator. Only there, all alone, did she give in to a broad smirk. _Javi Esposito, you're a very brave guy…suicidal maybe, but very very brave… _

.

"Hey…you didn't think there was anything weird going on right before Beckett left, did you?"

Martha gestured for her son to move aside, scooting around him to get the ice bucket into the sink, and she nodded contemplatively. "Not _weird_, per se; more like one of those things that all come out in time. It's all just a messy haze until one day, someone gives you a little nudge in the right direction, and eventually you wonder how you ever missed out in the first place."

…Okay, _she_ may have assumed that was a tidy recap, but the novelist's deeply furrowed brow and Tim Allen pause gave away his gigantic confusion. He was hoping it was just the hour, though if it _was_, he was off his game. "Did I miss something?"

"Always, Richard," she said dryly. "When it becomes your business you'll know, I'm sure, now hand me that dishtowel there and start pulling down the crepe paper."

"You're just saying that because you want me to mop too."

"Uncanny, your mindreading is simply uncanny."

"In the genes."

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***screams into a paper bag* GOD that was a long chapter! XD Sorry if that was a lot at once, but I figured I owed y'all for the wait, plus I really wasn't willing to split this chapter up; I couldn't find anywhere I'd be comfortable chopping it. SO. AFTER ALL THAT, PLEEEEEEEASE REVIEW, I LOVE knowing your thoughts and ESPECIALLY details, like what you liked best, etcet-yadda. Oh, and as always, go see my profile and read the bold chapter if you're interested in joining a Castle roleplay site. This story's got one more chapter on the way, so please stay tuned! Review! THANK YOU! **

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	4. Aftermatch

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**Okay everybody, here goes the last chapter of this one. I WILL write more L/E, don't worry - hel-LO, it's ME we're talking about here. XD My next project will be an episode-style Castle story, and at some point you can expect to see a special surprise oneshot from Lanie's POV, so those of you who have me on Author Alert will be seeing that soon. (Not that I'm hinting or anything. XD )**

**Anyway, thank you to those of you who reviewed, and, in answer to some of you saying you know nothing about poker: here's a little secret, neither do I. The magic of Google. XD ALSO, in this chapter there are a few bits that subtly refer to my pair of oneshots, "Keep Your Finger On The Pulse" and "Downbeat," so if you've read those you'll know what I mean and if you haven't you'll be ever-so-slightly confused at some points. Just letting you know. ^^**

**So, enjoy the enjoyable fallout from what just happened, startiiiiiiiiiiing…NOW. No further ado. XD **

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The night air was cool as they stepped out into it, but it had a way of seeming warm against the harsh air conditioning of Castle's building's upscale lobby. Emerging from one into the other was kind of like an out-of-body experience, at least until your skin warmed up to the contrast and then got a thirty-volt reminder that it was stepping into a whole _other_ out-of-body experience. That was how it worked for Javier, anyway, not that he'd…y'know…endorse it that way.

Dr. Parish had enough trouble keeping her mind in check as she stepped onto the sidewalk after him. It was one thing play-flirting with him when they were surrounded by colleagues whose idea of a good day was ribbing each other with every other sentence, but _now_…out here it was a whole different story. The boy had some seriously whacked ideas in his head and her wall was in serious jeopardy, here, alone together. Out in the city. At night. Whose bright idea had saying 'yes' been again? Oh. Hers.

Lifting a hand from the deep pocket of his coat, Javier pointed right. "I parked in the garage; 'bout two blocks down." He looked at her as if asking whether she minded, and Lanie's response was to nod in the direction he'd pointed. He shrugged - his form of acceptance - and started down the sidewalk, and she fell in step beside him. They kept a good foot or so apart, but somehow not as far as they _could've_ been. There was no reasoning that one.

Finally - okay, so it had only been five or six steps, fewer for Javier because he had height on her, but it _felt_ like a 'finally' - Lanie couldn't take the silence any more. Or at least, as silent as it _got_ in Manhattan: trash cans, distant traffic, even further voices. She inhaled a deep breath she didn't know she needed, and on the let-out she spoke up. "So what's the idea this time, Mr. Subtle?"

Esposito was slightly lost. "Idea?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about. You ask me if I need a ride, get me to agree so you can…what?"

"…Drive you home?" Maybe it was just him, but that one seemed kind of obvious.

Lanie sighed up at the half-moon, then cocked her head toward Detective Spell-It-Out-For-Me. "Have you hit your head recently?"

"No - have you been inhaling the formaldehyde?"

"I'm talking about your little Freudian slip last week. The grown-up equivalent of the note in the locker."

…Oh. That. Had that really come out of his mouth? In front of her like that? Half of the time Esposito was sure it had, and the other half the time he was convinced it was a cold-med-induced hallucination. Apparently, hallucination had nothing to do with it. He knew better anyway, though it was a nice idea to use as a safety net. The detective shrugged, just the one shoulder. "Yeah, I remember. So what about that's making you think I got anything up my sleeve?"

Lanie scoffed. "Maybe the fact that you're _you_? A 'no' to you is like a starting shot to Seabiscuit."

_You didn't _say _'no,' you evaded the subject. Wonder where you got that_. Esposito was smart enough to make sure that stayed in his head. Instead he half-shook his head once, answering, "Mm. Now that's just pathetic."

_That_ threw her for a loop. Lanie crossed her arms and gave him a 'watch where you go with this' look, just in case he meant _her_. "_What's_ pathetic?"

"A guy can't offer up a ride home to a girl he finds attractive anymore without her thinkin' he's got Motel Six tapped in his GPS."

"I never said _that_." The M.E. rolled her eyes, sending a few nice little death threats to tamp down the fluttery little flare in her stomach. In all the time she'd known Javier, she knew he'd never been a big player. _Acted_ like one, acted up a storm, made everybody within a thirty-foot radius wanna smack 'im, but according to her source he was actually pretty much a gentleman. And all the little signs lately were pointing in the direction to confirm that.

"No? Then what were you expecting?" He could've acted insulted, but he didn't see the point in it, because he really wasn't; he just wanted to know.

"I don't know!" Lanie threw her hands up in frustration. "Some kinda…knight slays the dragon, save a buncha kids from a burning building, proof-of-valor crap I guess."

"Oh you think I need to _prove_ myself." This was starting to get more amusing than anything.

"I think _you_ think you do. When you wouldn't have any _reason_ to, 'cause we're already friends," she answered stubbornly. Maybe there was a little unspoken underline on that last word, in her voice, and yeah, maybe she was saying it mostly for her own benefit.

A little chuckle worked its way out of Javier's throat, and he managed not to let it out too much. "Uh-huh. Friends."

There was the head-whip he was waiting for. Girl was going to give herself whiplash one of these days. "Oh, what _now_ Curly, you know somethin' I don't?"

"No, hey, I'm just agreein' with you."

"Good. Bright idea."

"I thought so." Keeping his outward show of amusement down to about thirty percent or so, Esposito nodded at the upcoming crosswalk. "That corner right up there."

"Fine with me Detective."

_Now_ he let out the chuckle. He couldn't've stopped it anyway. "Y'know you're cute when you're pissed."

Instantly she had a finger pointed at him. Incidentally it only made him grin more, since that was what he was going for. "Don't start."

"_God_, you are so easy to goad."

"Boy, I am _not_ goaded."

He knew it was better to back off and let her have this one, or, at least let her _think_ she had it. In his mind he won about a minute ago. He held up his hands in momentary surrender. "A'right, fine."

"Thank you. And not one more word about it or I yell 'help, stalker.'"

"And then I'll flash the badge and tell whoever comes runnnin' there's nothin' to see. If anybody does."

"What do you mean, 'if anybody does?'"

"I mean it's New York. You said it yourself: these people are famous for not caring. It's why I have a job. And why _you_ have a job."

"Nope, you got one thing wrong - I'd have a job either way. They still do autopsies for natural causes. Not everybody on my table had a grudge-match with a murderer. Some just ran outta batteries."

He didn't know why it made him smile just a bit, hearing her talk candidly about her work like that, but it did. Lanie caught his silence and glanced over, unintentionally adopting a tiny smile of her own out of, if she had to guess, little more than curiosity. "What?"

"Nah. Nothing, forget it."

"No, I will _not_ 'forget it,' _what_?"

Javier shook his head, but then he looked over at her as he walked. "Just…listenin' to you go on like that."

"What about it?"

He laid out what he was thinking point-by-point on the fingers of his left hand, a curious smirk evolving on his face. "You spend all day four floors underground, no windows; the place smells like a chemistry class on uppers; your only human contact is _dead_, unless you count Perlmutter - who by the way you're a friggin' _saint_ for dealing with, if you ask me, I dunno _how_ you do it - "

"Yes, we get it, thank you, he's psycho…"

" - and yet every time somebody asks you about the job you're all…satire. Like it's the most normal thing ever. How do you even _do_ that? I'm just curious."

Well. Lanie couldn't keep a less-than-displeased smirk from creeping onto her face. "Hey, you cops have your gallows humor, let me keep _my_ methods secret."

"Aw, c'mon."

"Besides; you didn't _ask_ about the job, I just told you."

"Should I start?"

Lanie thought for a moment. "No," she decided. "It's a Friday night; why should we be thinkin' about _work_?" Before he could find her choice of words amusing and without even looking over at that raised-eyebrow face of his, she held up a finger, adding, "And that wasn't an invitation either. Watch it, boy."

"Fair enough. Never said it was." It was about now that Javier retrieved his car keys from the depths of his pocket, walking them under the cement awning of the level above as the parking garage swallowed them into the shadows. Normally, these were the kinds of places Lanie made a habit of staying out of at night, so she was secretly relieved that a cop was with her, and not only that, he was armed. Not that she was going to come out and _say_, 'Hey, by the way, glad you and your gun are here'…it was just a thought. What she didn't need to do right now was feed Javier's ego. To _her_ mind, it was overactive often enough already.

The 'Roach Coach' was there in front of them in only a fraction of the walk it took to get there, and Lanie gladly went for the front passenger side…unable to keep her eyes from widening just a bit when a familiarly tanned hand came from behind her and pulled the door handle. She wasn't sure what surprised her more - the fact that he'd _actually_ just _opened the door_ for her or the fact that she hadn't heard him following, a bad sign in a dark parking garage - but she definitely didn't know how to respond to either, so she didn't, apart from a "Well…thank you" as she ducked into the seat.

To her, the soft slam of the door as he closed it might as well have been a metaphorical boot coming down to squash whatever these thoughts were in her head - because right now, she was pretty sure she needed one, and that was as good a visual to use as any. Disposing of those thoughts' bodies was her top priority in the few seconds it took for Javier to walk around the nose of the car, swinging his keys, and open the drivers' side door, sliding behind the wheel and shutting it after him. Luckily it was a priority she was good at.

She heard his voice again before she knew it, and turned to it, as he keyed the ignition and maneuvered the wheel to ease out of the space. "So. Doc. If not work, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

She couldn't help it. He was too ridiculous. A scoff/disbelieving laugh combination jumped out of her throat. "Me? No, no no. _I'm_ not the one whose idea this was."

"But you agreed to it."

"Yeah, I did, because I'd rather not get mugged on my way home - "

"_Would_ be a little ironic for you to end up on your own table, wouldn't it," he interjected, granting a half-nod and an amused flick of the eyebrows.

" - but that does _not_ mean I had any kind of topic in mind. Especially with _you_."

"Oh, _especially_ with me." To his credit, Javier really was _trying_ to sound insulted, but it was so easy to lose himself in the semi-childish joy of this conversation in particular that he was sure his smirk must've given him away. Only if you weren't blind. "Gotta say, I'm hurt, Lanie, you really cut me with that one."

"Mm-hm, keep talkin' and I may _actually_ cut you." Pre-empting his comeback for the thousandth time - a testament to both how well she didn't know she knew him, and how much she didn't know she was proving him right - she added, "And do _not_ say you're 'lookin' forward to that,' because I can guarantee you, you're not."

"No, I actually don't think I'd go for that one. Those scalpels are no joke." Odd statement to make, or oxymoronic anyway, since _that_ was a joke. One that earned him a scolding look. And, _why_ did he love the scolding look? Probably because he knew way too well that it was a desperate attempt to mask the amusement underneath.

And how. But Lanie Parish was no novice, and she knew, like _all_ women knew, that the best ammo was not to let them change the subject. Being extra experienced in all things 'hombre-y-mujer,' she clung to that like BP to bad press. "My _point_ is, Shecky, I'm not the one who had anything to talk about. I'm fine with just silence. Nice, quiet silence."

"_Had_. Past-tense. So _now_ you've got somethin' you wanna talk about."

Unbelievable. Lanie whipped her gaze from the windshield to his giant head in about half a second. "_Do not_ interrogate me. This is not one of your collars, capiche? Don't be bringin' out those tactics on me, because whatever you're tryin' to get me to admit, it doesn't exist."

Was there some kinda _scale_ for how fun this was? A meter, maybe…? There had to be. Still, Javier downplayed it, backed off. "All right, all right. Easy." Then, as he turned the wheel hand-over-hand and eased the car under the black-and-yellow armrail and into near-dead traffic flow, he softened a little, adding; "I wasn't trying to interrogate you. If you say there's nothin,' there's nothin.' I was just messin' with you."

"There _is_," she huffed, arms crossed over her seatbelt.

"Is what?"

"Nothing."

"Okay."

"Understood?"

"Loud and clear." Javier drove, neither of them saying anything else for a minute, but for him, it was only a pause. Turning his head a bit as if to look at her, even though his eyes were still on the road - and rightfully - he pointed out, "But you don't want silent."

Calmed down some, Lanie flicked her dark amber eyes toward him and back to the passing city again. "Don't I?"

Still facing traffic, light as it was tonight, he shook his head. "Nah. See; silent? That gets awkward. Gets real awkward real fast, then that tends to affect everything else until by the next time you see that person, you forget you ever knew how to talk to 'em."

…Would someone please remind her _why_ he just _had_ to be a detective. Reluctantly, her eyes shifting to him for the first instance longer than a nanosecond, she admitted, "…I guess you got a point."

It was because of that look that Lanie noticed a grin was starting to spread over his face, about as fast as Awkward over Silence. "Especially when there's an elephant in the room…"

"Boy, _shut_ up," she laughed. …Wait…_I'm sorry…laughed?_ Yep. Partially because, she knew that time - even if for his own health's sake - he was playing around, and partially because…oh, for God's sake, _why not_.

Her laugh was contagious - a thought that might have freaked him out about 'being ready for commitment' and all that crap, if he'd noticed - and it lasted him through a yellow and a green light. When both of them had settled, the smile on Lanie's face undeniable as she swiped a glance or two over that she didn't think her driver would notice, Esposito amended, "Seriously, Lanie, for real here. Just to go over the list; I'm not tryin' to get you in bed, I'm not implying you're thinkin' anything, all I want is to prove I can give you a ride home. Just like any good friend would do. I'm serious; no agenda." At a red light, he momentarily faced her, earnesty showing there. "You believe me?"

Suddenly, Lanie wished someone, _anyone_, could explain to her why she almost felt…_disappointed_. Not enough to notice, of course - she made sure of that - but still, she wasn't dumb enough to call a horse a pigeon; she was gonna call a horse a horse. That was a tiny pang of disappointment…but…there was sincerity all over his face, up until he turned it back to the road…and that was sweet enough to make up for it.

And she was really hoping that that train of thought was all alcohol.

"Yeah," she exhaled toward the window, just as earnestly. "Yeah, I believe you."

Esposito nodded once. "Good. Thank you. I appreciate that."

For once, he hadn't read her - or if he had, he was doing her the service of hiding it - and the M.E. thanked her lucky stars for that. She nodded too, more for her own benefit than anything else. "Well, you're welcome." Only after a good long pause did she allow her eyes to rove his way again, and, as if trying to figure something out, they held there.

Which he felt like a hot laser. And for the record, he'd read her like a book, finding exactly the disappointment he was hoping for.

Not-smiling had _never_ been this hard.

Quiet fell over the car as they passed four more city blocks, countless storefronts, trash cans, parking meters, stoops - a.k.a. beds for the homeless. Yet again, Esposito caught the good doctor a bit off guard when he spoke - not having her usual control was _really_ getting on her last good nerve, by the way - and she moved her eyes back out the front windshield as if they'd been burned…and now so was her face as it flushed. Luckily, it was dark and so was she and nobody was gonna know any better.

"See, now here goes that 'silent' thing again," he warned lightly.

Lanie could hear the baby grin in his voice, and she adopted one too. "Guess so. Are you gonna fix that or is it up to me?"

He almost, _almost_, had to laugh at his good fortune at the way she put that. Suddenly, he found his voice softening to a new stage of honesty he hadn't used tonight, and maybe his hands were trying to save him by concentrating totally on the gearshift and parallel-parking on the curb, that way he couldn't think too much about what would happen when he opened his mouth.

"It's _all_ up to you. All the time you need."

…_Whoa_. Holy motherfreakin' _subtext_, Batman. Even though her mouth was still firmly hinged closed - and mostly out of shock - Lanie still felt like, if she could somehow fly out of herself and look down, she'd see her own jaw hit the floorboard. She didn't even register for a few moments that the car was stopped, or that they were currently in front of her building. Blinking a few times as her brain scrambled to recover from the Whack-A-Mole mallet it just got, she hated herself for it, but her only initial response was to nod dumbly. _Come on, _where _is Lanie 'you-go-girl' Parish. Stop actin' so…whatever this is. God._

It seemed like her brain actually knew what was good for it, because it listened pretty quickly, allowing a tiny smile to crawl onto the medical examiner's face, a familiar one, hinting of attitude and mystery. Her voice was a slightly lower volume than before. "Oh, so the pressure's on _me_; thanks a lot," she kidded. He wasn't the only one who could do subtext. She read.

Letting his seatbelt wind itself back, Javier's door opened, and he slid out of the car without replying, only for Lanie to look out her window and find him there a second later. "Don't think of it like pressure," he said once her door was no longer a boundary. As she got out, he elaborated; "It's supposed to come natural." Still very much subtext, still very much under the guise of discussing discussion.

"Mm-hm, so I hear." Her playfulness was coming back, and she wasn't going to bother questioning _why_; she was just relieved not to be staring like an idiot; it was freaky and un-her-like. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Esposito shut the door, and Dr. Parish was, yet again, a bit surprised when he appeared beside her. She didn't know _why_, after all of this, she'd half expected him to get back in the car, honk once she was in and drive off, or something. Mind just being crazy, she guessed. It seemed to be doing a lot of that.

A devilish smirk tugging at her dark red lips, she quipped, "Thought you didn't have any funny ideas?"

"Five minutes and you're already doubtin' me? That quick?" he grinned. "Ow. No, I just thought I'd walk you as far as the door."

"Uh-huh. Like the end of a date."

"Like the end of a _ride_. Besides, what if somebody jumped you, like, ten feet from your own apartment. After doin' so good all that way. It'd be totally anti-climactic."

"You're full of crap, you know that?"

"Now _what_ kind of guy would I be if I responded to that in _any_ way at all."

Unfortunately - yes, here was Lanie Parish, thinking things like 'unfortunately' - the distance to the front door of her apartment building was considerably shorter than the distance between Castle's place and the garage, the gate and the car, the garage and here. They were already stopped at the door, and Lanie took one of the little steps up the stoop, turning around there, giving him a look that she hoped would keep him wondering. "Guess we'll never know what kind of guy you really are, then, Detective."

Noticing the hint of her smile, Esposito lost any ability to tamp down his own, and a small one quirked his mouth into a grin. He shrugged one shoulder. "'Till the next chapter."

"Ohhh, looks like _somebody's_ been hangin' around Castle too long," she accused with a laugh.

"Hey now, you're the one who reads the books. I'm just sayin.' There's always another chapter." There was a charmingly conspiratory glint in his eye…she could have sworn so, at least. Maybe it was a streetlight. Who knew. "A cop's gotta be optimistic _somehow_."

Swimming a manicured hand through her purse, Lanie fished out her keys and gave him that 'you're full of it' look again, but playfully. "Yeah, well get on home before I do what an _M.E_. does and all _you_ get is an _epilogue_."

A chuckle came from Javier's throat, showed all over his face, and she liked the sound of it. The look of it wasn't bad either, you had to admit. "Yeah, yeah, I'm out of your hair right now," he promised. But before she could ascend the second concrete step toward that door, Lanie was stopped mid-turn, and turned back, as his hand lightly caught her wrist.

She had _some_ kind of idea what he was doing as he lifted her hand, bowed his head just a little…it wasn't until she felt his lips actually meet her knuckles that she felt her breath climb out of her chest, halfway up her esophagus, and set up camp there.

It was brief, and then he released her, one step backward toward the curb…and, was it always this chilly out here? She couldn't seem to make herself ignore the gentle, purely electric smirk in his eyes, and he lifted a hand to about waist-level; a gesture that wanted to be a wave when it grew up. "G'night, Doc."

Slowly, yet suddenly, it was easy for her to duplicate his smile. He might _know_, but so did she. "…Yeah. 'Night."

Esposito pocketed both hands for the walk back to his car, what there was of it. That was the only way he could make one-hundred percent sure he wasn't about to jump up on a concrete block, swing around a lamppost and fist-pump Jersey Shore style. At least with his back to her, there was no way she could see the big stupid grin his little smirk had become… _Man, you are pathetic. Nothin's even goin' ON there, you know it, yet all you can - _

Little did he know, while he was internal-monologuing, Lanie was standing there, still, catching a very tiny epiphany. She looked up and called out just as Javier got his door open. "Hey, Detective!"

Stopping mid-thought, pre-car-entry, post-grin-erasure, Esposito looked up, finding her there on the porch, and waited.

"Thanks for the ride."

His grin came back easily, only this time as a subtler smile. "You got it." Nodding to convey he'd be seeing her again _real_ soon - even if, yes, it would most likely concern dead bodies - Javier ducked under the roof of his car, stepped in, slammed the door, gave a rev to the still-running engine.

Lanie stayed and watched as he did, stood there until he pulled away and drove off into the path of his own headlights. It was only about then, realizing that now she _was_ alone in a dark doorway, that she turned back toward it and worked her key, shaking her head, chuckling a bit to herself - or maybe _at_ herself; who knew at this point. "You have gotta be kiddin' me," she mused, for no particular reason she could think of at all.

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It was as lucky for the New York Police Department as it was for the city of New York that there were no more calls about bodies dropping for the rest of the weekend. Oh, sure, people still died - can't have anyone thinking the world isn't scary or plumb crazy, now, can we? - but the jurisdiction fell to other stations in other boroughs, leaving the fine people of Twelfth Homicide to do what people are _supposed_ to do on weekends off. A little light drinking, some eating, a lot of sleeping, and probably other stuff in between.

As relaxing as those rare occurrences were, their end always left Kate Beckett itchy to work. Call her crazy - at your caution, of course - but they did. And she was. So it was perfect timing, the fact that just as she got antsy, it happened to turn into Monday morning. Not that she was rooting for a murder, mind you. She just had a need to feel productive.

Boy, was she ever about to.

The detective sat at her desk as usual - 'usual' depending on the day, anyway - and was just fine with engrossing herself in the stack of paperwork that had magically turned up there over the weekend. Most of it just needed her signature, some of it needed passing along, and all of it was looking like it was going to take up the better part of her morning. She was okay with it; it gave her mind something to use up its extra focus on. It always seemed to make too much of it, and if she was to believe what people said, that could eventually make her crazy.

Whether it was preventative maintenance or the thing that actually _would_ drive her crazy, arguably, no paperwork was going to do itself. That said, it had Beckett's full attention for the first forty-five minutes and two cups of coffee of her day. Only when the elevator emitted a soft _ding_ and the doors slid open did Kate look up - she was expecting Lanie anytime this morning; she needed her signature on a few of these as well.

Beckett lifted her pen-bearing hand partway into the air and gave a little wave, meaning to catch her friend's eye in a sort of, 'I'm over here,' a small 'hi' smile on her lips.

So it was just a little perplexing that Lanie didn't notice her at all. In fact she seemed to be taking a detour entirely first…

…Right to Esposito's desk. Beckett hadn't even noticed until now that he was sitting there.

The second she thought back to the poker game the other night, the happily disbelieving _Oh my God_ flashing across Beckett's brain was unmistakable. _Shut the front door. _Not wasting a second of opportunity, she angled herself as subtly as she possibly could in order to watch the two of them…he was signing the chunk of pages she'd left for him; Lanie tapped the desk with a _very_ suspicious-looking half-smile; he looked up, definitely a good surprise; they were chatting, probably not even about work, there was too much smiling and laughing for that… _God, they're acting like they're alone together at Nobu instead of like six feet away from me… _Still, with few exceptions, Kate had never minded being totally ignored _less_.

"_Gooooo_ooooood morning, Detective."

The way-too-familiar, definitely-too-chipper bellow made Kate wince. Apparently not _everyone_ was ignoring her. She wished they would.

"_Castle_," she hissed. In the space of two seconds, she'd shot out an arm, grabbed a fistful of his Armani sleeve, and sucked the slightly-stunned writer down into his usual chair. "Quiet."

Catching on quickly to at least _that_ much, he leaned in and adapted his voice to a matching whisper, though there was a lot of curiosity in there too. His cobalt eyes shifted where Beckett's were looking. "What are we watching?"

"We're _not_. Or…_you're_ not," she stumbled, sounding awkward and irritable at the same time. More the latter.

Besides her oh-so-amusing tone, there was also the fact that she was still looking that way for Castle to pick up on. And he did. Easily. Author. Duh. "Ahh, I see; we're watching Esposito and Lanie." He looked at Beckett. "_Why_ are we watching Esposito and Lanie."

In a few short seconds, Beckett would really come to regret letting her frustration answer for her without thinking first. "We're not - and if we were it might be because of the other night," she bit curtly.

"Other night…the poker game?" Just because Castle had been a little fuzzy by night's end didn't mean he hadn't picked up on a certain vibe flying between the doctor and the detective in the last round. In addition to his _incredibly_ precise eye for the details of death, the _Times_ and the _Ledger_ had also praised his attention to steamy romantic scenes, just saying. Now, his eyes were moseying back that way too, as if looking for more cues he'd missed before.

Kate's eyes involuntarily rolled for the ceiling before she shoved them back onto the little play unfolding in front of her. _Ohhh_, yep, that was definite word-regret happening here. "Just…shut up, Castle. I'll hurt you later."

"Threat or promise?"

"Depends on if you're a good little boy."

"Thennnn you don't know me very well…oh my gosh, _I_ get it; you're _meddling_, _aren't_ you?"

His aghast-ness was almost twice as annoying as his lack of subtlety. "Castle," she warned.

"You totally are! Let me ask you something - "

"Uh, _no_."

" - that's why you wanted Lanie to come to the game so bad, wasn't it? And why you threw a perfectly good hand."

For a brief but ticked second, Beckett whirled on him. "You looked at my cards?" Nevermind the fact that she herself had looked at Esposito's, or that turnabout was indeed fair play.

"I had cleanup duty," he shrugged plainly, then jumped right back into his stupid, giddy suspicions. "You are so Haley Mills-ing them," he grinned.

"_What_?"

"Parent Trap."

"I _get_ the reference, Castle, it's your _meds_ I believe I'm questioning."

"Uh-oh, B-Harmony is getting angry."

"Oh, you want to see angry?"

Smartly, the perpetually-twelve author was already inching out of his chair; mid-sentence, he booked, speed walking toward the breakroom. "Is that an offer?"

"No, _that_ was a threat…" Beckett quietly jumped out of her chair too, her proximity on his heels causing him to speed up, and she stage-whispered after him. "Castle, get back here."

"Sorry; you'll have to catch me."

"What am I, your dog-walker?"

"No, you're my work-wife."

"Say that one more time and I send you to the rookies for target practice…"

Their exchange continued even as it faded with distance. Luckily for the grinning detective reclining in his chair and the M.E. perched amicably on his desk, they hadn't paid a lick of attention in the first place.

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***takes a HUGE sigh of relief* YAYYYYY! I'm SO happy this is finally done! It went exactly where I hoped it would, and I hope you guys enjoy it too…it feels so good to actually not only update, but COMPLETE a story I've been working on forever. I feel like I never get to do that. XD**

**So, we've advanced the Lanie/Esposito relationship by a few more small degrees - they're not together **_**just **_**yet, but hopefully their cuteness in this new step they're taking is enough to satisfy. XD And of COURSE, had to have some Caskett. ;D**

**SO! As always, if there's anyone out there 14 and over who's interested in joining a free, Castle-based roleplaying forum, please see the bolded paragraph in my profile and take the link. New members always welcome, and AS OF the time of this chapter's publication, we still need people to play characters including Montgomery, Demming, Thornton and Perlmutter, so check us out! ^^ **

**Finally, last but VERY much not least, PLEASE, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (not that I'm begging, xD ) take a sec and drop me a review: I LOVE details, it REALLY helps me knowing your favorite parts and what you liked, and I love getting them, they make my day. ^_^ **

**With that, dearies, thanks a TON for reading - more Castle fics to come! Peace and love! **

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